


Zombie Juice!

by RedLetterMistress



Category: Jay Bauman - Fandom, Red Letter Media
Genre: Fatherhood, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:00:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23214439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedLetterMistress/pseuds/RedLetterMistress
Summary: You're dead asleep as a terrified cry starts to shake the walls.It looks like Jay might have introduced his child to zombie movies a little too soon.Based on a Anon request for Jay as a father.This is the first entry in the RedLetterMedia Fanfic Quarantine Collection.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 21
Collections: Red Letter Media Fanfic Quarantine Collection





	Zombie Juice!

**Author's Note:**

>   
>    
> 

"Do you want to 'Paper, Rock, Scissors' for it?" you ask groggily.

"Yeah," Jay grumbles into his pillow. "M'kay." 

You crack your eyes open wide enough and try to make out your hands in the darkness of the bedroom. The crying from the next room continues unabated. 

Jay counts off as your fists pound down against your open palms in unison.

"One, two, thr…"

"Daaaaaaddy!" comes the voice through the wall.

Jay's hands fall down to the mattress in defeat.

"Goddamn it," he groans. Jay scratches his fingers through his beard. 

"Sucker!" you laugh. "That's what you get for being a great father!" you chide. Jay rolls out of bed in his gray boxers and pulls his pajama pants off of the chair near his nightstand. 

“Where’s the spray bottle?” he asks as he pulls a white t-shirt over his his head.

“It’s on the top shelf of the closet next to the glow sticks,” you reply with a yawn. You reach over and grab the comforter from Jay's side of the bed and curl yourself into a warm, sleepy burrito.

"Don't take all the covers!" Jay maintains as he pulls his jersey-knit pajama pants up to his hips. "I’m coming right back," Jay explains.

"Yeah, okay. I'll see you in an hour. You can wrestle these blankets out of my cold, dead hands, Bauman."

"You know, it’s not an insult to call me by my name. Plus, it’s your nam…"

"DAAAAAADY!" comes the small voice again.

Jay grunts as he walks to the door and turns back dramatically to make his point known: "I'm taking **ALL** of the blankets the second I come back!" he warns.

You're back to sleep before the door closes behind him.

Jay pivots from out of your bedroom into the slightly smaller room next door. The floor is littered with toys: a stuffed Alien facehugger, five plastic construction vehicles, and no less than a dozen child-sized costumes are just a few of the obstacles Jay manages to avoid on his way to the small bed in the corner. Jay and Mike took a long weekend a few years ago to build the bed frame from scratch. It's not perfect, but it's a pretty solid facsimile of a certain red and white 1959 Cadillac Future Duplex ambulance; right down to the "ECTO-1" license plate on the front. 

There, peeking over his _Ghostbusters_ comforter, sits the best little mistake Jay ever made.

"What's up, buddy?" Jay asks with sleep in his voice.

"There's zombies outside," his little one pleads.

"Tommy, there's no zombies," Jay explains. Tommy is not swayed.

"But I saw them," Tommy cries. Two large front teeth hang over his quivering bottom lip. 

Jay sits down on the edge of the small bed and rubs his hand over his young son's head.

"Well that is scary, yeah," he assures. "Where did you see them?"

"On the TV!" 

Shit. Maybe _Night of the Living Dead_ was a bit much for a not-quite-seven-year old.

"Tommy," Jay starts. "What did we say about zombies?"

"That they're not real," he answers. His cheeks are still wet with tears.

"Exactly," Jay affirms.

"BUT WHAT IF THEY ARE?!?!" Tommy screams. 

Jay sits dumbfounded for a moment before he holds his arms out and Tommy crawls out of his covers to curl up on his father’s lap. Jay pulls the comforter over Tommy’s _Paw Patrol_ jammies before placing a kiss on his sweaty little forehead.

"Well, they just aren’t real, bud. They don’t exist."

Tommy's big, wet eyes peer up to his father.

"But what if they do?" he argues.

 _Huh_. That's a good point. Jay runs his hand over his beard in thought. 

"Okay, let's think about this then. What if they did exist?" he asks the little boy in his arms. Tommy's eyes go wide. "Which they don't!" Jay adds quickly.

"They'd eat my brains!" He cries.

"Okay, sure. They might **_try_ **to eat your brains, sure." Jay reasons. "But how do you get them to NOT eat your brains? To just leave you alone?"

His son looks around and tries desperately to think.

"I get a sword and I cut off their heads!" Tommy decrees.

"Well that's good if they are already in your room, I guess," Jay says. "What if you don't want them anywhere near you?" he asks. The little boy in his arms thinks hard. 

"I... I… put... their heads on sticks outside?" Tommy offers.

Jay smiles wide, but manages not to laugh as he keeps his hold around his son.

"Yes! That would definitely do it," Jay nods. He pulls away just far enough to look Tommy in the eyes. "But we don't have any zombie heads to put by the door. Plus your mom is already pretty picky about decorating the front yard with dead bodies."

Thomas Michael Bauman's lips start to pout and Jay realizes his plan might be falling to pieces. He sees his son’s eyes begin to brim with tears. Jay waggles a finger in Tommy’s face and clears his throat. 

"And so THAT'S why I invented my own patented zombie repellent!" Jay says proudly.

"R...r...really?" little Tommy inquires with incredulity.

"Yes, really!" Jay affirms with a dramatic nod. "I've been in the zombie business basically forever. Me and Uncle Mike have been in the thick of things since years before you were born," he says with authority. "All you have to do is boil down zombie juice to make anti-zombie juice and then spray it anywhere you don't want zombies to go," Jay maintains.

Tommy rubs the tears out of his eyes and looks up to his father. 

"That keeps them away? But for real?”

"Absolutely it does," Jay explains. "Zombies need fresh brains, right? So they're gonna hate dead brains," Jay smiles. He drags away a tear from his son's face. "But I gotta warn you, bud: Mommy made the zombie juice this time. She did good work, but she couldn't stand the smell, so she added a bunch of other things to it. It works awesome, but it smells like flowers."

"It smells pretty?" Tommy asks hopefully.

"Well I told her that I thought it should smell like dead zombie brains, but your mom did a bunch of tests: The zombies hate regular anti-zombie juice, but if you add lilac to it, the zombies actually run away even faster."

"Really?" 

"Yep. Totally. In fact, it’s in your closet right now. Can I go get it for you? It'll take less than a minute.” Tommy seems apprehensive. “Can you be brave for me, bud?"

Tommy isn't quite sure how brave he can be. But his dad is clearly very brave. He looks into his father's eyes and nods his head. 

"Okay, Daddy. I can do it."

Jay looks down into Tommy's eyes as his son tries desperately to be strong. Turns out Jay is the first one to break. 

"Well actually…Could you come with and keep an eye out while I go get it?" Jay asks. A small smile appears on Tommy’s face. "I'm not scared," Jay maintains, "it's just good to have someone watching your back in case there are zombies around."

Tommy nods once in agreement and wraps his hands around Jay's neck. Jay holds his son tightly as he stands up from the small bed. 

"You got my back?" he asks over his shoulder.

"Got your six, Daddy," Tommy replies with a determination beyond his almost seven years. Clearly, Uncle Jack has been teaching him military terminology. Or maybe it was the dozen times he's let Tommy watch _Top Gun_.

Jay opens the closet door wide while his son tightens his grip around his back. Jay reaches up and grabs a bottle of Febreze off of the top shelf.

The milky liquid inside sloshes as Jay twists off the lid. He pulls a long, thin plastic rod from the nearby box and cracks it to life. The subtle purple glow gets brighter as he shakes the glow stick and drops it down into the open spray bottle.

"Did you get it?" Tommy whispers. He keeps his eyes out for trouble behind his father's back.

"Almost," Jay replies. He twists the sprayer back onto the bottle and shakes. The pale contents light up with an other-worldly shade of purple.

"Check it out, Tom," Jay invites. 

Tommy loosens his group around Jay's shoulders and leans back to see a glowing bottle of anti-zombie juice illuminating his father's face. Tommy’s prominent front teeth cut into his bottom lip as he smiles widely - a tiny, beardless mirror of Jay’s expression. 

“That’ll keep them away!”

“You’re dam-- _darn_ right it will - this is anti-zombie juice!” Jay assures him. “We’ll spray your room and you can go to bed - no zombies allowed.” 

"We gotta spray some for Mommy, too, though," Tommy implores. “So they don’t eat her.”

"Wow. You're right." Jay looks proudly at his son. If there ever were a zombie apocalypse, it’s good to know his little one would want to keep his mother safe. _Good boy._

"Let's do this!" Jay says before gripping his son tighter and bolting out of the room. They turn the corner quickly and burst through your bedroom door. 

Still wrapped up in your blanket cocoon, you barely notice the intrusion. 

"Babe! We need to spray for zombies - NOW!" Jay declares. 

You don’t quite register his words, but you huff something resembling a curse word into your pillow. 

Jay grips the glowing bottle of Febreze tight and pumps the sprayer half a dozen times. The clean smell of fresh laundry and lilac fills your dark room. 

“It does smell nice!” Tommy chimes happily.

“Nice to us, bud. But _deadly_ to dumb zombies,” Jay replies. 

“They wont eat your brains now, Mommy!” Tommy squeals. 

“Thafs greaf, honey,” you answer before drifting off again. Jay bestows a couple of extra spritzes of lilac spray on the hamper full of dirty laundry in the closet. 

“Let’s get your room done and get you back to bed,” Jay says as his son's arms start to slack around his neck. 

"Okay," Tommy chimes with a yawn.

They head back to the smaller bedroom and Jay does his best to navigate the cluttered floor as he holds his little boy tight. He sprays the carpet and the drapes with his glowing purple anti-zombie juice before pausing to appreciate the feel of the tiny arms draped over his shoulders. Tommy’s nearly asleep now, but Jay keeps spraying… just in case. 

When Jay feels Tommy’s drool soaking through the back of his shirt, he knows it’s time to finally put him in bed. He sets the glowing bottle back on the top shelf of the closet and heads back toward the Ecto-1. Jay tucks his son’s favorite stuffed Slimer doll under the comforter and Tommy immediately latches on to it with both arms. Jay smiles down at his tiny, toothy doppelganger and his heart feels heavy and light all at the same time. 

Tommy’s going to be too big for this soon. Will he even remember nights like this when he grows up? 

Jay knows at least _he_ will remember it - and that might be enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> Tommy's first name is an homage to horror special effects artist Tom Savini. Jay tells everyone that Tommy's middle name (Michael) is for Michael Myers, but it's actually for the man who changed his life and challenges him every day: Mike Stoklasa.  
> But please don't tell Mike. He'd just be an asshole about it. ;)
> 
> Leave me a comment or a kudos! I'd appreciate the heck out of it. Or contact me on my [tumblr](https://rlmfanfic.tumblr.com/).
> 
> This is the first entry into the RedLetterMedia Fanfic Quarantine Collection. I'll be posting something every other day until I can leave the house. I would ABSOLUTELY LOVE for you to include your RLM fanfic in the collection. Please feel free to reach out to me via [tumblr](https://rlmfanfic.tumblr.com/) or at redlettermistress@gmail.com.
> 
> Here is artwork by thecurlycaptain on tumblr:  
>   
> 


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